


I'll Be Home

by argentum_ls (LadySilver)



Category: The Tomorrow People (1992)
Genre: Christmas, Family Feels, Future Fic, Gen, Gift Fic, Yuletide Treat, mentions of other canon characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:34:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28210215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySilver/pseuds/argentum_ls
Summary: After years away, Adam finally finds a reason to go home.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 11
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	I'll Be Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coralysendria](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coralysendria/gifts).



Adam heard the story on the news, which he caught in passing on a store television set in the electronics aisle. He stopped to watch the broadcast only because of the crowd that was slowly gathering around the television and the murmurs of sympathy that rippled from one customer to another as the reporter talked.

“...sad Christmas for some,” the reporter stated. He was a slender black man with big eyes, large teeth, and a Santa cap perched askew on his head. The picture cut from him to a wide pan of a crowd of people gathered in an airport lounge. Even through the camera lens, Adam could feel their despair. He understood why as the reporter continued. “For this crowd of travelers, a serious equipment failure on their scheduled plane likely means that they'll be unable to get home for Christmas.”

Adam started to turn away, to resume his search for the perfect gift for Megabyte and Jade and the others. He shouldn't have waited until the last minute to do his shopping, never mind that he did every year. Something about having the whole world from which to choose gifts made it difficult to settle until the clock ran out and he had to choose. A different voice on the television caught his attention. The reporter was interviewing random passengers and he'd decided to start with a man decked out in his Navy uniform, a rucksack slung over his shoulder, and a defeated expression in his brown eyes.

“This would have been my first Christmas home in two years,” the man explained—which was all Adam needed to hear to make his decision.

*~*

The airport was packed with last minute travelers, many of whom were forcibly maintaining their cheer in the face of long lines, over-priced food, and the rapidly deteriorating conditions of the restrooms and waiting areas. Adam had to tighten his mental shields more than ever just to keep at bay the flood of complaints that threatened to wash him away. He hurried past the gates where the always overbooked planes would be departing and on to the one where all the journalists searching for a seasonal human interest story congregated.

He hovered around the fringes of the crowd for a while, watching the people, trying to get a feel for who was there and where they needed to go. Some might choose to hire a car in lieu of daring to wait for the plane's replacement parts, which could arrive in as soon as six hours, the airline promised. Many of those who had no holiday to get home for had booked themselves hotel rooms, choosing to enjoy some spontaneous time alone together on the airline's charge.

When he finally couldn't justify delaying any longer, he slipped past the reporters and to the bank of seats where the sailor sat and slid into the empty seat next to him. “Hullo, Dan.”

The sailor stiffened, then slowly turned. In a protracted moment, Adam watched his expression shift from polite wariness to stunned disbelief. “Adam?” he breathed.

Adam felt his heart thud heavily, a force enough to break the barrier of pent up emotion he'd built so long ago. He couldn't get his mouth around all the words that wanted to come out, so instead he sat on the hard plastic seat and grinned stupidly at his brother.

Dan had been fifteen when Adam had last seen him this close, and he looked exactly the way Adam remembered, only more. He'd filled out, of course, adding muscle and girth. The shaggy haircut that had never looked right on him had been traded for a royal navy regulation cut that did. His skin was tanned dark, acne gone, and already starting to show signs of a life-time spent outdoors.

“It’s been awhile,” Adam eventually managed. And wasn’t that an understatement. It had been six years and change since Adam left home, six years and change since he’d stormed out of the house, anger boiling over at his parents’ refusal to understand why he balked at the life they wanted him to live. After all this time, there should’ve been so much to say, yet all Adam could manage was a weak “How’re you doing?”

“How am I doing? After all this time, you show up out of nowhere and ask that, like you _care_.” Dan rounded on Adam, whatever self-control he’d learned in the military thrown aside at this re-opening of an old wound. The bank of seats they sat in didn’t allow much room to move, and the unyielding bar of arm rest between them forced them to keep a physical distance that both might have been willing to cross otherwise.

Adam shut his eyes and dipped his head, ready to accept whatever Dan wanted to lay on him. It was the least he could do.

“Where have you been?”

That, at least, was a question Adam could turn into an easy one. “I have a flat in London.”

“London. As in, England?” Dan waited for Adam’s nod of confirmation, then hissed out a frustrated breath. His lips curled into a snarl so like their father’s, and he half-turned as if to stomp away before turning back. “How? Your passport is still in your room at home; there’s never been a hit on your name or picture at any border crossing. And, in case it’s escaped your notice, we’re not in the same _hemisphere_ as London now.” His volume, at least, stayed low enough that it didn’t attract undue attention from the other travelers. They all had their own problems right now, and no one was in the mood for more drama.

One easy question would be all Adam would get. It almost seemed like one more than he deserved. “I know. I wanted … I saw you on the news and … well …” He splayed his arms like he’d done nothing worse than borrow Dan’s car and return it with an empty tank.

“That’s all you have to say? You took off,” Dan accused. “You left without so much as a good-bye. Where did you go? Why would you do that to Mom and Dad?” He stopped, pushing down the anger that he had every right to share, yet wouldn't in public. 

Adam kept his head down, offering what little contrition he could. “I had to,” he murmured. “I had to leave.”

“Why?” Dan demanded again. “And where did you come from now? How did you get here?” Spreading his arms, he took in the airport lounge, where travelers studied the airline's flight information board for any sign of good news. For Adam to be on this side of the airport security meant that he'd been planning to be here on this day, at this time. At least, that's how Dan would see it, because he didn't know any better. “Is this some kind of joke? Is this a set up?” 

Dan brought his gaze onto the reporters. They were still busily interviewing passengers, one-at-a-time making sure that everyone in the lounge, as well as those watching on the news, understood how desperate this holiday would be. What ratings fodder it would be to reunite the returning war hero with his estranged brother. They could bring out balloons and streamers and pretend that they'd made a difference in the world.

Adam shook his head. “No.” He squeezed his fists tight, felt the strain of every muscle in his neck and back. He'd always known that this conversation was coming, though this was neither the place nor the way he'd wanted to have it. “I couldn't be what Dad wanted.” I couldn't be you, he thought. How petulant did that sound? The issue had never been one of simple sibling rivalry. He'd only been a few days away from finishing school when he and his father had their last fight. By then, his father had spent a lifetime trying to groom Adam to continue the family legacy of pursing a naval enlistment, and Adam had spent years resisting, though it wasn't until he broke out and washed up on the beach of Tapahini that he started to understand why.

[Hey, Adam!] The voice that broke into his thoughts belonged to Megabyte, and it sounded entirely too cheerful.

[Not now, Megabyte.]

[Nah, this'll only take a sec. You know how you’re pretty much impossible to buy gifts for?]

Adam closed his eyes, fighting impatience. Megabyte really had to choose _now_ to ask him for suggestions? [You know it’s the thought that counts,] he answered. There was a special kind of irony in the difficulty a bunch of telepaths had in figuring out what to get one another for the holidays.

[Yeah, well, I’ve figured out the perfect one.] Megabyte paused, his sense of drama overriding his eagerness to share his insight. [My dad wanted me to tell you 'Merry Christmas' and he'll handle the clean-up. So, um, Merry Christmas!] With the message delivered, Megabyte's presence disappeared from Adam's head.

 _What?_ Adam thought. Why would General Damon, Megabyte's dad and head of WORLD EX want him to hear that message, right now? 

A second later, the phone behind the check-in counter rang. The agent answered it, scowled in confusion, and called over the reporter he'd originally seen covering the story. The man took the phone and listened. “International security?” he asked, incredulous. “Are you serious? … Right … I understand.” He handed the phone back and rolled his head in resignation. “Wrap it up, folks!” he called out to his crew. “We're being shut down.” He cast a suspicious eye toward Dan, the only person there in a military uniform, but didn't say anything. Reporting on a plane full of stranded passengers at Christmas was a fluff piece, so if orders from on high said to back off, he had nothing to lose by agreeing, and everything to gain by establishing his willingness to play along for when the real story broke.

One by one, the reporters all signed off and began to pack up.

“What was that about?” Dan asked. He started to stand; Adam touched his arm and implored him to stay seated.

“I think I've been given the go ahead to tell you the truth.”

“The truth?” Dan echoed slowly. “About what?”

Adam held up a finger, pausing any further talk until the last of the reporters and camera people cleared out. A uniformed airport employee pulled a latticed gate most of the way across the entrance, cutting the terminal waiting room off from the rest of the concourse. People could still see in, if they wanted to, only doing so would be difficult enough most travelers wouldn’t bother; they were too intent on finding their own gates and catching their own flights to bother with the goings on at this one.

A few passengers still lingered behind, those who had no other option for getting to their destinations, or no means to use them: a heavily pregnant woman with a toddler curled up asleep on the seat next to her; two older men who had their heads together, whispering furiously; a young couple traveling on their honeymoon; a few university students, gobsmacked over this development and uncertain what they were supposed to do to address it. Carry-on luggage, purses, and laptop bags were scattered in small pockets of territory around each group.

Adam drew in a steading breath, then rose to his feet, Dan’s questions still unanswered. He crossed first to the pregnant woman, hands out so she could see he meant no harm. It helped that he had the kind of face people trusted, and he’d worked hard to build the kind of demeanor they did too. 

He spoke to the woman, explaining what he wanted to do, and what he needed her to do. She peered around the waiting area, obviously searching for the catch. When the reporters left, they’d taken the remaining hope and good cheer with them, as well. The remaining passengers wilted in their seats, slowly beginning to accept the realization that they’d be spending the holiday alone in the airport rather than at home with their families and friends. Even the music playing over the airport speakers had a despondent feel, despite the themes of bells and crisp snow.

With only a brief consideration of her choices, the woman nodded and began to gather her child and belongings. Adam glanced back at his brother long enough to verify that Dan was, in fact, watching, then he took the woman’s hands in his, and teleported her to her home airport, as she’d requested. Her family planned to pick her up there, and she’d been so looking forward to seeing the delight in their eyes when she greeted them at the baggage claim. Though she’d be a few hours early, that was easier to explain than if she’d simply shown up at her parents’ house without luggage or a leased car. Not that she’d ever be allowed to use an explanation more detailed than “Christmas miracle.”

Adam stayed with her long enough to verify her safety, then returned.

Dan had always been the stoic one. He kept his emotions in close check and carefully guarded his expressions—at least, after he’d become a teenager. Adam remembered him when they were kids, though, when Dan laughed easily, and could be brought to side-clutching paroxysms just from Adam tripping over his feet while trying to walk in shoes that’d been laced together. 

One summer, when the temperature climbed too high to go outside, he and Dan instead attempted to build a passage connecting their rooms through their closet walls. They succeeded in knocking several holes in the drywall, getting grounded, and losing the ability to make eye contact with one another for weeks without either or both of them cracking up. 

They wrestled and fought like typical brothers did, but they spent far more time trading jokes and designing ever more elaborate pranks to play on one another. 

Not until after he washed up on the island did Adam start to understand why none of Dan’s pranks ever truly took Adam by surprise.

Dan was only 18 months younger than Adam, which meant he grew up learning every skill Adam had just mastered. It made him competitive. Working so hard to keep up turned him into a perfectionist and an overachiever. And, by the time they were teens, Dan has also made a habit of picking up whatever activity or interest Adam abandoned and excelling at it, whether that involved joining the swim club after Adam decided he preferred to snorkel and SCUBA dive outside of competition, or announcing his intent to follow their father’s legacy into the military after Adam made it clear he would not.

His brother’s mouth hung open now and shock scored his face. “A-a-dam?”

Adam bit his lip and gave a tight nod. He knew there’d be questions. Of course there’d be questions. Now was not the time to address them, though. Dan was smart enough to recognize that, though, and to keep his questions in check. Either that, or he'd learned too well that he'd get answers only when and if someone thought he needed them. Their father had tried to enforce that.

One by one, Adam went to the other waiting passengers and took them home. He’d never teleported as far or as often as required of him now, but he fought through the strain. To give up now—to abandon the hapless passengers after they’d glimpsed a way out—would be to violate everything Adam believed about what it meant to be a Tomorrow Person.

Finally, only Dan remained. Adam approached him, hands spread, inviting his brother to accept them.

In the interim, Dan’s expression had soured. He stood, back straight, his chin thrust out like he now viewed himself as the superior who planned to give a dressing down to a subordinate. “You _vanished_ ,” he stated, tone devoid of emotion yet somehow still demanding of an explanation. “You _disappeared_.”

Adam nodded, knowing that Dan wasn’t talking about the teleporting he’d witnessed over the last few minutes. “I did.” There wasn't much more he could offer besides his recognition of the pain he'd caused.

Dan’s lips pressed into a tight line. “Mom and Dad searched for you everywhere. They drove all over the city, checked everywhere you could possibly be. _I_ searched for you. It was my job to call all your classmates. _I_ was the one who had to wait by the phone at home in case news came in.”

The anger roiling off Dan forced Adam back a step. At some level, he’d known his leaving would hurt his family. They’d been good people, loving. His wasn’t a life of abuse or abandonment where running away was the only way to survive. After that last fight with his father though, the final fight where Adam and his father shouted loudly enough to rattle the windows, and his father laid bare all his disappointment in--what he termed--his eldest son’s pacifistic failings, Adam couldn’t bring himself to go back, either. “I’m sorry.” Adam bowed his head, ready to accept any and all blame Dan put on him. “I had to get away—and then I _couldn’t_ come back, not immediately. I didn’t know how.”

There’d be a longer discussion later. Adam could tell Dan about how he teleported for the first time, and then, how he’d learned of other abilities, and come to learn that those powers made him perfectly suited to solving certain problems that the militaries weren’t equipped to address. He could apologize properly for abandoning his brother, and for letting all his family live under the question mark of whether he was still alive. He could tell Dan how he’d always wondered if his father—and now his brother—would be as accepting of Adam as General Damon was of his son.

There were all military men, and that was pretty much where the similarity stopped. General Damon pursued his path through diplomacy and military intelligence, while Adam’s father valued the boots on the ground. Or, the oars in the water, as it were. Dan, Adam suspected, had modeled himself on their father’s values. He’d certainly been headed that way. And Adam had been built for a different path.

When the two brothers weren’t standing as the last passengers in an airport lounge, fluorescent lights banishing all the shadows, they’d finally be able to address their baggage.

“How about now?” Dan asked. “Do you think you can get me home? That’s what you were doing, right, with all the beaming in and out? You were taking everyone home.” He shook his head, almost fondly as if he expected nothing more from his brother, though the tension lines around his mouth gave away that he was a long way yet from any true forgiveness. “You were always about finding your own way to do things.”

Adam had always intended to make sure Dan got home; at no point did he consider otherwise. And Dan had to know that—which meant that _his_ getting home wasn’t the question.

The carpet held no answers, nor did the darkening sky visible through the plate glass windows that lined the outer wall of the concourse. Adam didn’t know what to do with his hands. He tucked them in the pockets of his jeans, pulled them out again to stretch his suddenly stiff fingers, then pressed them flat against his legs. “Home. Are you certain that’s a good idea?” The strain of all the teleporting had left him feeling wrung out, yet strangely wired, like after pulling an all-nighter while still hyped up on strong coffee. He was still good for another jaunt, then maybe one more back to London. If he had to.

Dan considered for a moment. “They never stopped looking for you. Every time the phone rings…” He trailed off, letting out a shaky breath. “You owe them this. If nothing else, let them know you’re OK. It’s not going to become easier if you keep waiting.” As if Adam needed further convincing, he continued, “And … they are getting older. Besides, I think Mom and Dad will both be proud of whatever it is you do with … what you _can_ do.”

Had Megabyte thought through this? Was he the one who talked his father into running cleanup because he figured out that the family Adam had found with the Tomorrow People wasn’t the only family he had out there? Or was it General Damon’s idea: the sentiment of a parent who understood the agony of not knowing what happened to your child? Did it matter? Adam had taken the first step toward reuniting with his parents, and the Damons saw what he was doing and pushed him the rest of the way.

“Yeah,” Adam answered, “I think it’s time. More than time.”

With a sharp nod of assent, Dan hefted his rucksack onto his shoulder, then did a quick sweep of the area around his seat to verify that he wasn’t leaving anything behind. He’d watched Adam take the other passengers to their homes, so he knew what to do. He held out his hand. “You know,” he said, “when it comes to surprise presents, I’m never going to be able to top this.”

“And I’m never going to be able to equal it,” Adam responded. He still hadn’t picked out gifts for the other Tomorrow People, but he suspected they’d understand. Megabyte, especially. Families could be good about that.


End file.
